


Not Just A Convenience

by xikra1648



Series: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and...His Wife? [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Post-Reichenbach, Reader Doesn't Know Sherlock's Alive, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xikra1648/pseuds/xikra1648
Summary: You knew that you were close to your husband, convenient marriage or not you were still friends.  What you didn't know that, as time passed and you found yourselves spending more and more time together at 221B Baker Street, you became more than just a convenience to each other.At least...not until it was too late.





	Not Just A Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> Why??? Why do I do these things??? This is horrible and yet I'm still posting it because...I don't even know anymore. I just...I don't know.

# The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and...His Wife?

### Not Just A Convenience

Assumptions were a dangerous thing, they really were.  That was why a psychotic genius like Moriarty didn’t automatically assume you were important to your husband, instead looking at the circumstances surrounding your marriage.  Early circumstances made it seem as if you weren’t important, but more recent events spoke otherwise.  They were trivial things, things nobody would know if it weren’t for the spies, but substantial clues as to Sherlock’s attachment to you-especially considering it was _Sherlock._

The fact that he gave you safe harbor from Moriarty, as much as he could at any rate, the fact that, while neither of you did a song and dance, he never bothered hiding the fact the two of you were wed, the creation of a will naming you as sole inheritor of his worldly possessions, and an entire network of homeless informants paid not just for information but to protect you.

It was _beautiful_.  Even Moriarty couldn’t have orchestrated something so _wonderfully_ poetic, the thief that had been nothing but a thorn in his side since she began her career had gained the sentiment of the only man that could possibly end him.  All he had to do was dangle your life in front of the detective, though it was too much fun to put a gun to the head of all the _normal_ people as well they were just too precious not to _kill_ , and Sherlock took a swan dive off the roof of a _hospital_ of all things.  It was all so beautifully interconnected and ironic that Moriarty couldn’t help himself.

Playing on your sentiment for the detective, grown stronger after a year and a half working with him every day, would have been too obvious.  It would have been _too easy._   No, this was far, far more fun.  He had to sacrifice Moran to follow you, your training and skills were easily more advanced than just any chump, but it was worth it to see Sherlock hide the way he _squirmed_ when Moriarty told him you’d die.  You’d die _slowly_ and _painfully_ after what you did to business, and especially after you so helpfully assisted Mycroft in capturing and containing Moriarty.

You were called to identify the body, as his wife you would be, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down at the broken body that was once such a lively and _hyper_ man you considered one of your best friends.  Screw that, he _was_ your best friend.  Considering your immense lack of family, at least a family that cared, Sherlock was as close as you got for years.  He cared in his own way, you knew that, otherwise he never would have offered 221B as a safe place when Moriarty first made himself known to the detective.  Well, he didn’t _offer_ as much as he did _order_ you to stay within sight of himself or John at all times, particularly considering you had admitted being on Moriarty’s hit list, but the thought was still there.  If he didn’t care…

_“There were a few things in his pocket.  Most of it has gone to evidence but I managed to snag something I think he’d want you to have,” Molly told you solemnly after you identified Sherlock, an unnecessary step considering she knew him as well.  You were sitting in the café down the street, she was treating you to tea at her insistence, an apology for making you take the time to travel to St. Bart’s with everything else you were dealing with.  She reached into the pocket of her old brown jacket and handed you a plastic evidence bag with one simple, small, object inside._

_You reached forward and took it, growing silent as you stared at it.  You recognized it immediately, you had been the one to buy it as Sherlock wasn’t about to drag himself away from the case long enough to buy a piece of jewelry that was going to become meaningless in a few months.  You had thought he would have gotten rid of it, or at least lost it, but there it was._

_A simple white-gold band that matched the one sitting in your jewelry box._

It was a particularly _odd_ way to meet his parents.  It wasn’t exactly a _secret_ the famous detective was married, either Anderson or Donovan had so _kindly_ let that little fact out to the public as soon as they found out.  Anything to be a pain in the detective’s ass, and yours too.  You hadn’t gotten along with them and it had nothing to do with the fact you were a criminal and they were in law enforcement.  Frankly, you couldn’t care less about their career and they had no idea who you were.  No, you just didn’t like them because they were close-minded judgmental little pricks that deserved what they got, when _Mrs._ Anderson so _mysteriously_ found out about her husband’s affair.

You and Sherlock spent an entire month giggling over it, only to be further amused by the fact the crossed wife left Donovan with a black eye and Anderson on the street.

You hadn’t imagined meeting his parents while looking over his will, of all things, and the second it became apparent you were inheriting _everything_ you were left a tad baffled.  It didn’t mean you could bring yourself to change anything, moving into 221B Baker Street and leaving your old flat behind.  You had company for a bit, until John moved in with Mary, and while you were happy for him you were a bit jealous.  Not because you were left alone with Mrs. Hudson, but because he recognized he was in love before the one he loved _died_.  Now you were alone in 221B, the poor widow the media couldn’t quite leave alone when Sherlock was vindicated or even on the anniversary of his death.

You tried changing things, attempting to move on with your life, but all you could bring yourself to do was a bit of tidying up, cleaning up experiments before they blew up or did whatever they were going to do.  Lestrade helped you deal with the public, the poor man felt it was his duty as he couldn’t stop Sherlock’s death.  You tried to tell him you didn’t need the help, but stopped yourself when you saw it was more for his well-being than for yours.  Despite poor attempts to flirt with you in the beginning, Greg quickly became a close friend, even though he occasionally found himself calling you when he was out of his depth.  You were no Sherlock, but you had your own techniques of solving crimes.

It might have started out as a marriage of convenience, but it certainly didn’t remain that way…

For _either_ of you.

Why else would he have _died_ for you?


End file.
